


down this river every turn

by kiyala



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-15
Updated: 2014-06-15
Packaged: 2018-02-04 18:42:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1789249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiyala/pseuds/kiyala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Courfeyrac is in love. Combeferre is too busy pretending he isn't hurt to listen to what Courfeyrac is actually trying to tell him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	down this river every turn

"Combeferre, you're good at advice, right?"

Putting his book down, Combeferre looks up to meet Courfeyrac's gaze and lets out an exaggerated sigh. "Oh, here we go."

Courfeyrac grins at him and sits down beside him on the couch. "I need to talk to someone about this and I can't think of anyone better than you. If that's okay?"

Combeferre can't help the smile that spreads across his face because no matter what, he'll never stop being pleased by the fact that Courfeyrac always comes to him. They have several friends who could probably give better advice on a range of things but each and every time, Courfeyrac comes to him. When it comes to Courfeyrac, Combeferre is happy to take what he can get, whether that be time, attention, or the easy affection he shows everyone. Courfeyrac doesn't need to know the way Combeferre feels about him and it's fine if those feelings are never going to be returned, because at least Combeferre has this, and while it might not quite be enough, he can sometimes pretend that it is. 

"Of course it's okay. You can always talk to me."

"Good." Courfeyrac casually brushes their shoulders together as he settles properly, drawing his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. "…I think I'm in love."

Combeferre very carefully keeps his expression blank. "Oh really."

"Really." Courfeyrac has a fond smile on his lips, his _tone_ is fond, and Combeferre forces himself not to look away the way he wants to, forces himself to ignore the way he suddenly feels cold and empty. "He's this… absolutely amazing guy who cares about everyone around him, who somehow manages to be more patient that everyone else I know combined."

"Oh," Combeferre says quietly, biting the inside of his cheek to hold back his, _you told me I was patient, is he even more patient than I am?_

"He's so gentle and so intelligent and sometimes that patience wears away and the gentleness disappears and he's fierce and _terrifying_ , but in the best possible way, if you know what I mean."

This time, Combeferre doesn't bother to hide his frown. "I'm afraid that I don't."

"It's just that he always knows exactly what to say. If reasoning doesn't work, he just cuts them down with some carefully-chosen words and he's the smartest person I know, it's terrifying to watch but it's _amazing_."

Combeferre snorts quietly. "Right."

"And the thing is," Courfeyrac continues, resting his chin on his knees, "I think he might like me too?"

"You _are_ very likeable," Combeferre assures him. "You're friendly and welcoming and you go out of your way to let people know that they matter. You're one of the most wonderful people I know."

"You think so?" Courfeyrac smiles brightly. 

"I do," Combeferre replies, then clears his throat. "Look, I have to go. I promised Enjolras I'd meet him at the library so we could study together." 

"Oh, of course!" Courfeyrac uncurls himself and gets off the couch. Combeferre stands, giving Courfeyrac a very brief smile, then grabs his books and leaves. 

He's halfway to the library when he takes his phone out and types out a message to Enjolras.

**Combeferre:** If anybody asks, I'm spending the next two hours studying with you in the library.  
 **Enjolras:** Okay.

Combeferre smiles at Enjolras' immediate response, appreciating the fact that he doesn't demand an explanation. He probably will when they see each other later, but that buys Combeferre some time to come up with a convincing explanation that doesn't involve the fact that he's sulking because Courfeyrac is in love with somebody who isn't him.

He picks a corner of the library and sets his book bag down, ignoring his textbook and notes for the novel he'd thrown in there as well. He's not really in the mood to do any actual studying and he figures that if he's going to spend two hours hidden away in the library licking his wounds, he might as well be doing something pleasant. 

It's difficult to get his head into the book to begin with, because he's still too busy thinking about Courfeyrac but it's pleasant once he manages. He ignores everything about the real world and concerns himself with the fantasy world on the pages instead, worries about their problems, their wars. By the time he's finished the book, he's been in the library for nearly two and a half hours and he doesn't really feel any better. 

Sighing at himself, he puts the book back into his bag and rests his head in his hands. Going back to the apartment probably means that he'll run into Courfeyrac again but the thing is, he can't really avoid that. He's not going to stop seeing Courfeyrac and if things work out with this guy that he's in love with, Combeferre's just going to have to deal with seeing them together all the time. He might as well get used to it. 

Sure enough, Courfeyrac is there when Combeferre returns, spread out on the couch and half paying attention to a show on the TV as he texts someone. Probably this guy he's in love with. Combeferre tries not to look at the way Courfeyrac's shirt has lifted a little to show his hipbones and the trail of dark hair that disappears down into his pants. 

"Hey," Courfeyrac greets, not looking up. "How was studying?"

"Same old," Combeferre replies, walking around the couch and lifting Courfeyrac's feet so he can sit down before putting them down to rest in his lap. 

"I still need advice," Courfeyrac tells him, tucking his legs beneath him and sitting up properly. "About the guy I'm in love with."

"I don't think I'm the best person to be asking, to be honest," Combeferre tells him. "I don't really know—"

"You're the best possible person to be asking," Courfeyrac tells him seriously. "Because I really want to ask him out, Combeferre, but I don't know if I should."

"Well, I don't think I've ever seen you hesitate before," Combeferre says. "This sort of stuff usually comes second nature to you. What's different this time?"

"It's _serious_ this time," Courfeyrac replies. "I flirt with people I like. I don't flirt with people I'm in love with. I don't… I don't really know what to do, when it comes to someone I'm in love with. He's a pretty big part of my life and I don't want to risk making things weird, just in case. I'm still not completely sure that he'd want me."

"He'd be an idiot not to," Combeferre mutters, mostly to himself. "Why don't you just ask to spend some time with him alone without specifying that it's a date? Just as friends. Go for coffee or something."

"Well," Courfeyrac snorts quietly. "That's probably not going to help because one, we spend lots of time together alone anyway and I still have no idea where I stand with him. And second… he's kind of my favourite coffee guy."

Combeferre frowns this time and he can't just push this away and ignore it this time, he _can't_. "I thought I was your favourite coffee guy. That's what you tell me when I'm working the morning shifts anyway and make your first coffee of the day. Or is that just what you tell everyone?"

"What?" Courfeyrac looks confused. " _No_. Combeferre. _You're_ my favourite. It's you."

"Then who _is_ this guy?" Combeferre asks, and then his eyes go wide. "Oh."

"Combeferre?" Courfeyrac sounds cautious, a little afraid, and Combeferre shakes his head at himself.

"It's me," Combeferre says, because he's reached the conclusion mentally, but he wants to say it aloud, wants to confirm it. "You're in love with me."

Courfeyrac presses his lips together into a thin line and looks like he's about to burst. He nods without making a sound. 

"Oh, Courfeyrac." Combeferre covers his face with his hands. "I was _jealous_. So disgustingly jealous."

"Of yourself?" Courfeyrac asks with a small, tentative smile. "You didn't know I was talking about you."

"Well, you were talking about me in the third person," Combeferre replies. "Of course I assumed the worst, that everything I felt for you was one-sided because you loved someone else." 

"I didn't know how much to say," Courfeyrac explains, laughing quietly. "I didn't know if you felt the same. I thought I was being obvious with the way I felt, I thought I'd give you the chance to turn me down if you weren't interested, without actually coming out and saying it. I didn't want to make things weird between us if it turned out that this was all one-sided."

"It's not," Combeferre tells him frankly, reaching for Courfeyrac's hand. "Not at all."

Courfeyrac's smile grows. "I'm in love with you."

"And I'm in love with you," Combeferre replies, gently pulling Courfeyrac into his arms. "I'm so madly in love with you."

Courfeyrac laughs again, sounding delighted. "Here I thought that maybe you were keeping your expression blank because you didn't feel the same. Then you left to go to the library and I thought that was you letting me down without actually letting me down. Poor Jehan had to put up with my upset text messages."

"I'm sorry for making you think that," Combeferre tells him. "I'll apologise to Jehan too."

" _I'm_ sorry that you thought I was in love with someone else." Courfeyrac says it in a tone that suggests the very concept is impossible for him to fathom. 

"Well, we've sorted it out now," Combeferre tells him with a smile. "I love you."

Courfeyrac leans forward, resting their foreheads together. "I love you too."

Combeferre pulls Courfeyrac down into a kiss, with absolutely no intention of letting him go for a very long time.


End file.
